POP REVIEW; Blues With a Scratch
By ANN POWERS
Published: July 12, 2001
Chris Whitley ran his pick along the low strings of his National guitar during his Tuesday set at the Bowery Ballroom, making a buzz that sounded like a record being scratched. It wasn't a showy move, but an act of integration. With DJ Logic pulling similar rhythms from his turntables, and Etienne Lytel providing ambient, Kraftwerk-style keyboard lines, Mr. Whitley lured the blues into a new matrix.
A 40-year-old singer and songwriter, he was introducing material from his latest album, ''Rocket House'' (ATO/BMG), which challenges his fans but doesn't take them by surprise. Mr. Whitley may have started his career seven albums ago as a Texas-born, dirt-road traditionalist, but he has always been restless, moving into noise-rock and minimalist jazz, evoking Chet Baker and Sonic Youth as much as Robert Johnson.
With ''Rocket House'' he has found a structure that harmonizes his tendencies. DJ Logic's turntable artistry was the key: using an instrument that by nature shreds melody and stretches rhythm, he shaped a present moment in which Mr. Whitley's circular guitar playing and moody vocals made sense. This wasn't hip-hop with blues flourishes or blues made hip by a backbeat. It was a cybernetic creation. Mr. Whitley and his band cultivated the age-old pain and sensuality of classic blues within a genetically altered seedbed.
The rhythm section of Tony Mangurian (who also produced ''Rocket House'') and Heiko Schramm provided rich ground for this musical crossbreeding. Songs like ''Chain'' and ''Say Goodbye'' swelled and contracted, almost tidal in cadence. Sometimes the experiment lost focus and went flat. Soon, though, the hypnotic mood returned, as Mr. Whitley, the most introverted of guitar slingers, continued casting his ruminations within the band's shimmering net.
''Hip-hop has blown my mind, John Cash has done his time,'' sang Ike Reilly during his enthusiastically received opening set, making an accidental allusion to the blend Mr. Whitley is exploring. But Mr. Reilly, who led a sweetly cheeky band, is much more of a traditionalist, albeit in a whip-smart, post-punk style.
A longtime striver from Libertyville, Ill., Mr. Reilly writes witty power pop songs propelled by good jokes and rueful disclosures. His debut album, ''Salesmen and Racists'' (Universal), may signal the return of genuinely witty rock, something less experimental than what Mr. Whitley offers, but equally welcome.